A Mood Of Quiet Beauty Quotes

The evening light was like honey in the trees
When you left me and walked to the end of the street
Where the sunset abruptly ended.
The wedding-cake drawbridge lowered itself
To the fragile forget-me-not flower.
You climbed aboard.
Burnt horizons suddenly paved with golden stones,
Dreams I had, including suicide,
Puff out the hot-air balloon now.
It is bursting, it is about to burst ~ John Ashbery

Reflecting back on the journey to the
"Great Outdoors"
places me in a different tonal mood, filled
up with hope and passion, not resentful,
suppressed relics of anger unresolved

Did you listen to the winds?
What did you hear?
Did you listen to the trees?
What knowledge did they bring you?
Did you listen to the birds?
What songs did they sing to you?
Did you listen to the Universe(s)?
What messages did they bring you?
Did you listen to the ancestors?
What hope did they send you?
Did you really listen?

Close your eyes and open up your full
heart and listen again
Not for me
Do it 4 UrSelf
Do it 4 tha Future
Look beyond UrSelf
Open up UrSelf
Love ThySelf
Quiet the chatter of your mind, close
the racing tracks and be still and
quiet so that U can hear what
they're trying to say to U.

Be appreciative for what U have been
bestowed and blessed to be stewards of, please
do not take this to mean: Destroy, dominate,
and control.
Let it mean be cognizant of the complexity, respect true
biodiversity, respect and honor all Life, allow for balance, and
recognize evolutionary adaptability in all of Creation.

The winds are blowing good tidings and blessings
in this here direction as this one poem comes
to a close while striving for the rootedness of an
ancient Sequoia so high up in ~ Irucka Ajani Embry

Things it helps me to remember
When in a bad mood, keep quiet or still.
Baggy jumpers don't suit you.
When you're tired you get doubtful.
Difficulties come in spurts.
Listen to the echo of your own voice. Avoid be strident.
All aeroplanes go through clouds during their journeys. So do people during theirs.
Often greater clarity comes out of confusion. You have to be puzzled before you find a solution.
PMS often brings on a crisis of confidence.
Ordinariness is restful.
If someone is explosive in front of you, be silent. If you feel explosive, be silent. ~ Aidan Chambers

You'll stay," he said firmly.
"But-"
He crossed his arms. "Do I look like a man in the mood to be argued with?"
She stared at him mutinously.
"If you run," he warned, "I will catch you."
Sophie eyed the distance between them, then tried to judge the distance back to My Cottage.If he stopped to pull on his clothing she might have a chance of escaping, but if he didn't...
"Sophie," he said, "I can practically see the steam coming out of your ears. Stop taxing your brain with useless mathematical computations and do as I asked."
One of her feet twitched. Whether it was itching to run home or merely turn around, she'd never know.
"Now," he ordered.
With a loud sigh and grumble, Sophie crossed her arms and turned around to stare at a knothole in the tree trunk in front of her as if her very life depended on it The inferal man wasn't being particularly quiet as he went about his business, and she couldn't seem to keep herself from listening to and trying to identify every sound that rustled and splashed behind her.Now he was emerging from the water, now he was reaching for his breeches, now he was...
It was no use.She had a dreadfully wicked imagination, and there was no getting around it.
He should have just let her return to the house. Instead she was forced to wait, utterly mortified, while he dressed. Her skin felt like it was on fire, and she was certain her cheeks must be eight different shades of red. A gentleman would ~ Julia Quinn

Sometimes on late summer nights, when the sky is perfect and our parents are in a good enough mood to let us, we meet up to take a midnight walk through the field beyond our houses. It's always peaceful and quiet, a perfect time to stargaze into the velvety black sky dotted with millions of crystals that make up the Milky Way. The warm summer night's breeze ripples the tall grass and makes a small brushing sound that echoes throughout the valley. In the distance, the Appalachian Mountains loom like giant gray ghosts cast in the silvery glow of the midnight Moon. They wrap around our little valley like a scarf, and the hollers that seem close in the daytime seem like a lifetime away in the dark. We become engulfed by the thousands of fireflies that dance around in the steamy mist that radiates off of the ground because of the humidity. Those are the beautiful midsummer nights in Valia Springs that I will never forget. ~ Jacquelyn Eubanks

She let her bad mood seethe into the silence of the carriage. Finally, she couldn't bear the vicious cycle of her thoughts, the way they kept returning to Irex and her stupid decision to humiliate him at Bite and Sting. "Well?" she asked Arin.
He sat across from her in the carriage, but didn't lift his eyes to meet hers. He studied his hands. "Well, what?"
"What do you think?"
"About?"
"About the party. About anything. About the bargain we made that you could at least pretend to uphold."
"You want to gossip about the party." He seemed tired.
"I want you to speak to me."
He looked at her then. She found that she had clenched her silk skirts in a fist. She let go. "For example, I know you overheard about Senator Andrax. Do you think he merits torture? Death?"
"He deserves what he gets," he said, and went quiet again.
Kestrel gave up. She sank into her anger.
"That isn't what's bothering you." Arin sounded reluctant, almost incredulous, as if he couldn't believe the words coming from his mouth.
Kestrel waited.
He said, "That man is an ass."
It was clear whom he meant. It was clear that no slave should ever say that of any Valorian. But it was magic to hear the words out loud. Kestrel breathed a laugh. "And I am a fool." She pressed chilly hands to her forehead. "I knew what he's like. I should have never played Bite and Sting with him. Or I should have let him win."
The corner of Arin's mouth twitched. "I enjo ~ Marie Rutkoski

Geeks are not the world's rowdiest people. We're quiet and introspective, and usually more comfortable communing with our keyboards or a good book than each other. Our idea of how to paint the
Emerald City red involves light liquor, heavy munchies, and marathon sessions of video games of the 'giant robots shooting each other and everything else in sight' variety. We debate competing lines of software or gaming consoles with passion, and dissect every movie, television show, and novel in the science fiction, fantasy, and horror genres.

With as many of us as there are in this town, people inevitably find ways to cater to us when we get in the mood to spend our hard-earned dollars. Downtown Seattle boasts grandiose geek magnets, like the Experience Music Project and the Experience Science Fiction museum, but it has much humbler and far more obscure attractions too, like the place we all went to for our ship party that evening: a hole-in-the-wall bar called the Electric Penguin on Capitol Hill. ~ Angela Korra'ti

We're keeping the pregnancy quiet for now, Lou," Knox told him. "We need you to do the same."
Lou lifted his hand, as if to pledge an oath. "You can be sure that I will do nothing to threaten the upcoming birth of our little Luc - "
"We are not calling the baby Lucifer," growled Harper, fists clenched.
Lou leaned toward Knox and said quietly, "Notice the mood swing? The stats don't lie."
Harper let out a long breath. "Why are you even here?"
Lou lifted a brow. "Expecting someone else?"
"Preferably someone who doesn't come uninvited, rifle through our kitchen, and help themselves to stuff. It's like having a stray dog turn up all the time."
Lou sniffed at her. "That's unfair. I don't shit on your floor. ~ Suzanne Wright

Therefore, let us not despair, but instead, survey the position, consider carefully the action we must take, and then address ourselves to our common task in a mood of sober resolution and quiet confidence, without haste and without pause. ~ Arthur Henderson

By October of 1958, most roads leading to the Oriente Province had become impassable. Bridges were cut and dropped by the rebels, making travel to the eastern part of Cuba extremely difficult. The elections in November were seen as an obvious sham and everyone knew that the only way to survive was to keep quiet and wait for changes to take place. Most of Batista's supporters were still in denial and carried out their atrocities with abandon. Tension among the people in Havana had grown and as Christmas approached, it became obvious that this year things would be different. People that had been harassed, or worse, were in no mood to celebrate the holidays. With the country engaged in a civil war that affected everyone, Christmas was not celebrated in the usual manner during the winter of 1958. ~ Hank Bracker

The donkey nibbled on his butt.

"What the hell!" Leaping a foot, Ozzie jerked around. The donkey was right THERE, not two inches from him, his ears laid back and his big brown eyes soulful. How had the damned thing moved so silently?

"He's just being friendly." Marci shared that special smile that felt like a caress. "He likes you."

Appalled, Ozzie said, "He likes my ass." And he backed out of the donkey's reach.

"I do, too."

No, no, no. He wasn't about to touch that one. "It'd help if you'd just be quiet, Marci."

Unaffected by his dark mood, she laughed. "Lighten up, Osbourne. It's not my fault, or the donkey's that you have such an irresistible bod."

-Osbourne and Marcie ~ Lori Foster

From that time on, the world was hers for the reading. She would never be lonely again, never miss the lack of intimate friends. Books became her friends and there was one for every mood. There was poetry for quiet companionship. There was adventure when she tired of quiet hours. There would be love stories when she came into adolescence and when she wanted to feel a closeness to someone she could read a biography. On that day when she first knew she could read, she made a vow to read one book a day as long as she lived. ~ Betty Smith

My least favorite form of street harassment is when a guy asks why I'm not smiling. It's related to that: Women aren't allowed to be quiet or stoic or shy - or, hell, just in a bad mood - without being criticized. Women are bitchy and frigid if we don't seem accessible at all times, for the most part to men. We're supposed to be perpetually friendly. Who wants to live up to that? And seriously, when was the last time you heard a quiet woman described as "deep"?
Men who are serious are just that - serious. Think laconic cowboys and Clint Eastwood-style movie heroes. Strong and silent is a desirable personality trait for men - women, not so much. Because where silence in men is seen as strength, silence in women (if not seen as bitchy) is seen as weakness - she's shy, a wallflower. ~ Jessica Valenti

You're in a rather odd mood today."
I'm soaking wet, Eloise."
No need to snap at me about it, I didn't force you to walk across town in the rain."
It wasn't raining when I left,". There was something about a sibling that brought out the eight-year-old in a body.
I'm sure the sky was gray,"
Clearly, she had a bit of the eight-year-old in her as well. ~ Julia Quinn

Traditionally, an engineer is responsible for capturing sound - microphone choice, gear, etc. A producer can have a number of different responsibilities - anything from songwriting to judging performances - setting mood, and (perhaps most importantly) choosing which songs to work on! ~ Matt Squire

T was in a blue mood , his open reflections on the isloation of his life floating like Jazz notes under a pink moon ~ Saira Viola

Humor is the touchstone of the truly mythological as distinct from the more literal-minded and sentimental theological mood. ~ Joseph Campbell

Double-clicking on his inbox, Jason noted that one of the three messages was from Suzy, aka ButterfliesInMyTummy, and his mood lifted. It was the fourth or fifth message they'd exchanged, and they were just starting to move beyond the tedious small-talk stage. He skimmed through the message, growing increasingly impatient. Suzy favoured those little face icons. The whole page was littered with them – smiley faces, sad faces, surprised faces, embarrassed faces. Why couldn't she just use words like everyone else? She also put five or six exclamation marks after a sentence, or added extra vowels to words, so everything was sooooooooo much fun or soooooooooo boring. It wound Jason up when people couldn't write properly. He wasn't asking for brain of Britain, but he liked a woman to be able to write a sentence that started with a capital letter and ended with a full stop and at least made an attempt at the Queen's English. At least it wasn't in text speak. He refused to answer the messages that spelled thanks 'tnx'. Britain didn't go through two World Wars so that the English language could be mutilated beyond recognition. ~ Tammy Cohen

Nothing ruins the mood during foreplay more than the recurring image of your sixty-five-year-old homeroom teacher trying to stretch a condom over a cucumber. ~ Dennis Miller

I do a lot of editing and switching around and putting little pieces together to get the right mood and personality, and it takes me forever to get a song finished. ~ Matt Berninger

My initial thoughts about what a title can do was to set mood and the prime underlying core of the film's story, to express the story in some metaphorical way. I saw the title as a way of conditioning the audience, so that when the film actually began, viewers would already have an emotional resonance with it. ~ Saul Bass

The only important thing is to follow nature. A tiger should be a good tiger; a tree, a good tree. So people should be people. But to know what people are, one must follow nature and go alone, admitting the importance of the unexpected. Still, nothing is possible without love ... For love puts one in a mood to risk everything, and not to withhold important elements. ~ Carl Jung

Sean started the engine and putted through the marina waters, and Adam had the nerve to plop onto the seat across the aisle from me. Sean reached the edge of the idle zone and cranked the boat into top speed. Adam called to me so softly I could barely catch his words over the motor, "Close your legs."
"What for? I waxed!" I looked down to make sure. This was okay now, because Sean was facing the other way and couldn't hear me in the din. Indeed, I was clean. I spread my legs even wider, put my arms on the back of the seat, and generally took up as much room as possible, like a boy. I glanced back over at Adam. "Does it make you uncomfortable for me to sit this way?"
He watched me warily. "Yes."
"May I suggest that this is your problem and not mine?"
He licked his lips and bent toward me. "If it keeps Sean from asking you out, it's going to be your problem, and you're going to make it my problem."
"Speaking of which," I said, crossing my legs like a girl. "Thanks for staying out of my way. How the hell am I supposed to get Sean to ask me out when he's all pissy?"
"You wanted me to lose to him at team calisthenics? That was too sweet to miss."
"You didn't have to win by quite so much, Adam. You knew I needed him in a good mood. You didn't have to rub it in."
Adam grinned. "And you wanted me to stop growing?"
"Do not make a joke about your size. If you can't think of anything to talk about except your large size, please say nothing at ~ Jennifer Echols

While writing, I tend to repeat the same song, endlessly, for thousands of times. This helps me ignore any lyrics, and helps create a consistent mood for each book. ~ Chuck Palahniuk

Another well-known study, led by Nancy Andreasen, used structured interviews and matched control groups to examine thirty writers at the prestigious University of Iowa Writers' Workshop. Eighty percent of the writers met formal criteria for a major mood disorder, compared with thirty percent of controls matched for age, education, and sex. ~ Joshua Wolf Shenk

Nowadays silence is looked on as odd and most of my race has forgotten the beauty of meaning much by saying little. Now tongues work all day by themselves with no help from the mind. ~ Toni Morrison

How easily we accept the fact that this is a varied world, with many races, cultures, and mores. In America we rejoice in this diversity, this pluralism, which makes up the rich pattern of our national being. We should learn to accept this pluralism in ourselves, to rejoice in the truth that we human being consist of a variety of moods, impulses, traits, and emotions ... If we become pluralistic in thinking about ourselves, we shall learn to take the depressed mood or the cruel mood or the uncooperative mood for what is, one of many, fleeting, not permanent. As pluralists we take ourselves for worse as well as for better, cease demanding a brittle perfection which can lead only to inner despair. There are facets of failure in every person's makeup and there are elements of success. Both must be accepted while we try to emphasize the latter through self-knowledge. ~ Joshua Loth Liebman

But maybe this is what Hannah has always wanted: a man who will deny her. A man of her own who isn't hers. Isn't it the real reason she broke up with Mike--not because he moved to North Carolina for law school (he wanted her to go with him, and she said no) but because he adored her? If she asked him to get out of bed and bring her a glass of water, he did. If she was in a bad mood, he tried to soothe her. It didn't bother him if she cried, or if she didn't wash her hair or shave her legs or have anything interesting to say. He forgave it all, he always thought she was beautiful, he always wanted to be around her. It became so boring! She'd been raised, after all, not to be accommodated but to accommodate, and if she was his world, then his world was small, he was easily satisfied. After a while, when he parted her lips with his tongue, she'd think, Thrash, thrash, here we go. She wanted to feel like she was striving cleanly forward, walking into a bracing wind and learning from her mistakes, and she felt instead like she was sitting in a deep, squishy sofa, eating Cheetos, in an overheated room. With Oliver, there is always contrast to shape their days, tension to keep them on their toes: You are far form me, you are close to me. We are fighting, we are getting along. ~ Curtis Sittenfeld

I am in no mood to fulminate on paper
I wish the two of us were in a room together talking of what matters most, the air thick with affinity. In January a man crawls into a cave of hopelessness; he hallucinates sympathies catching fire. Letters are glaciers, null frigates, trapping us where we are in the moment, unable to carry us on toward truth. ~ Carlene Bauer

Listening to music as preparation or background for your work brings you into a creative mood ... choose one type of music to calm down, another to reach a higher energy level, depending on the artwork you are doing. ~ Nita Leland

For he is in a past-tense, future-perfect kind of mood. ~ Zadie Smith

I'll never wake up in a good mood again.
I'm tired of these stinky boots ~ Jim Morrison

To achieve the mood of a warrior is not a simple matter. It is a revolution. To regard the lion and the water rats and our fellow men as equals is a magnificent act of a warrior's spirit. It takes power to do that. ~ Carlos Castaneda

I've never quite mastered the art of holding my liquor," she replied. He watched her root around in her purse a moment, before pulling out a tube of lip balm.
As Jonas watched her apply it, he nearly got distracted from her answer. Leaning forward, Jonas murmured, "Can't hold your liquor, huh?"
She replaced the cap and dropped it back into her purse. "Not so much. I tend to get a bit too happy."
His eyebrows shot up and his cock came to full-alert status. Happy--he liked the sound of that. "And that's a bad thing?"
To his utter shock, Deanna blushed. "In my case it is."
Curiosity got the better of him. "Care to explain?"
The waiter returned with the check, forcing Jonas to drop the conversation while he fished out his credit card. Once they were alone again, Jonas waited, hoping Deanna would go into more detail. She didn't disappoint him. "All my inhibitions disappear. It's not a comfortable feeling for me."
She was killing him. An immediate picture of a carefree Deanna sprang to mind. He liked it a hell of a lot. "Most people enjoy letting it all hang out every once in a while. Taking life too seriously leads to an early grave."
"Maybe, but if I suddenly develop the urge, I'd rather be coherent."
"You don't like to give up control," he surmised.
She cocked her head to the side, as if unsure how to respond at first. "It's not that," she said. "I guess if I'm in the mood to go romping naked through a forest, for example, then ~ Anne Rainey

When you get an idea, so many things come in that one moment. You could write the sound of that idea, or the sound of the room it's in. You could write the clothes the character is wearing, what they're saying, how they move, what they look like. Instead of making up, you're actually catching an idea, for a story, characters, place, and mood - all the stuff that comes. ~ David Lynch

Every day we slaughter our finest impulses. That is why we get a heartache when we read those lines written by the hand of a master and recognize them as our own, as the tender shoots which we stifled because we lacked the faith to believe in our own powers, our own criterion of truth and beauty. Every man, when he gets quiet, when he becomes desperately honest with himself, is capable of uttering profound truths. We all derive from the same source. there is no mystery about the origin of things. We are all part of creation, all kings, all poets, all musicians; we have only to open up, only to discover what is already there. ~ Henry Miller

Everyone who became great at something has a similar story: For years, they worked on their craft every day, even if they weren't in the mood. Always pushing, practicing, working, and improvingYes it takes thousands of hours of practice, but that's good news! It's a clear path and it's under your control. ~ Derek Sivers

Jaenelle woke up in a similar mood," Lucivar said mildly. "Must have been an interesting night." "Nothing happened," Daemon growled as he swiped his hair back. "Nothing physical," Lucivar said. "But I've danced with the Sadist enough times to recognize him when I see him." Daemon just waited. Lucivar's lips curled into that lazy, arrogant smile. "Welcome to Kaeleer, brother," he said softly. "It's good to have you back." He paused at the bathroom door. "I'll bring you a cup of coffee. That and a hot shower ought to wake you up enough. ~ Anne Bishop

Despite almost daily reports of chaos and discord in the White House, the public did not know how bad the internal situation actually was. Trump was always shifting, rarely fixed, erratic. He would get in a bad mood, something large or small would infuriate him, and he would say about the KORUS trade agreement, "We're withdrawing today. ~ Bob Woodward

And it came to me that these trees had been hardly smaller when I was yet unborn, and had stood as they stood now when I was a child playing among the cypresses and peaceful tombs of our necropolis, and that they would stand yet, drinking in the light of the dying sun, even as now, when I had been dead as long as those who rested there. I saw how little it weighed on the scale of things whether I lived or died, though my life was precious to me. And of those two thoughts I forged a mood by which I stood ready to grasp each smallest chance to live, yet in which I cared not too much whether I saved myself or not. By that mood, as I think, I did live; it has been so good a friend to me that I have endeavored to wear it ever since, succeeding not always, but often. ~ Gene Wolfe

There was freedom, there was peace, there was, most welcome of all, a summoning together, a resting on a platform of stability. Not as oneself did one find rest ever, in her experience (she accomplished here something dexterous with her needles) but as a wedge of darkness. Losing personality, one lost the fret, the hurry, the stir; and there rose to her lips always some exclamation of triumph over life when things came together in this peace, this rest, this eternity; and pausing there she looked out to meet that stroke of the Lighthouse, the long steady stroke, the last of the three, which was her stroke, for watching them in this mood always at this hour one could not help attaching oneself to one thing especially of the things one saw; and this thing, the long steady stroke, was her stroke. Often she found herself sitting and looking, sitting and looking, with her work in her hands until she became the thing she looked at - that light, for example. ~ Virginia Woolf

From this vantage, the whole notion of a "battlefield park" seemed a contradiction in terms. Preserved here for eternity was peace, beauty and quiet - the precise opposite of the events memorialized. ~ Paul Hawke

Hannah is missing school because one night, her father exiled her and her mother and Allison from the house. This was, obviously, somewhat insane. But it wasn't more insane or cruel than other things he's done, which is not to say he's insane or cruel all the time. He's himself; he can be perfectly pleasant; he's the weather system they live with , and all the behavior, whenever he is around, hinges on his mood. Don't the three of them understand that living with him simply is what it is? To complain or resist would be as useless as complaining about or resisting a tornado. ~ Curtis Sittenfeld